


Undoubtedly Yours

by ProvenceSimm



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them - Fandom
Genre: Established Relationship - ish, First Kiss, First Time, First everything poor Newt, I don't even ship Gramander what's rhis, M/M, Smut with fluff?, Welcome to sap central, its 1am and I had a terrible exam earlier so, who knows - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-06
Updated: 2017-06-06
Packaged: 2018-11-09 14:49:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11106828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProvenceSimm/pseuds/ProvenceSimm
Summary: "I don't care Newt," Percival admitted, his hand stroking the beautifully freckled cheek, "you are so perfect I don't care about anyone else."It was true, he didn't. He no longer thought of anyone else, pictured himself with anyone else, imagined a future with anyone else. It was all Newt, everything in his life was now Newt.He hoped a sweet, kind kiss would be enough to convince the stunning Magizoologist.





	Undoubtedly Yours

**Author's Note:**

> I know it's the 19th century and they would have worn Union suits but it's 1am, I've never written smut before and I had a horror of an exam earlier so I'm hardly gonna go back and write 6,000,000 words of them getting out of them ridiculous garbs! 
> 
> //fight me people I'm smol and angry
> 
> Be kind on my soul. 
> 
> Unbeta'd

\----

"Mr Graves, I-I mean, Percival, I've never, well, I've never, you see, no one's ever--"

And with that stumbling babble of an explanation from, quite possibly, the most fascinating and devastatingly beautiful Magizoologist living, Percival Graves knew he was well and truly fucked.

It was horrifying how much he adored that broken sound in Newt's voice, how the hot flush of his cheeks and the way his eyes diverted his, trying desperately to look anywhere but his face, made Percival want to keep him as his own, to claim and conquer him with an almost primeval instinct.

Percival knew he would be brandished a bad, predatory man for this. He would die an Auror's death and would rise up and meet some underwhelming Muggle God who would shake his fist at him and condemn him and label him the worst of the worst, someone who should suffer for as long as his soul could endure all because of this selfishness. Percival knew it, knew that even after everything with the war in Europe and Grindelwald that this would be the one thing, the one guilt he would carry with him for a lifetime.

Yet, even if he was racked with guilt somewhere deep inside, the pleasure of it was far too strong. To have Theseus Scamander's darling beloved brother in his front room, quivering like a leaf in the wind, hiding behind his smock of red hair as Percival stepped closer and closer to him, closing the gap between them was cruel, Percival knew, but he could hardly stop. It was intoxicating, more so than any alcohol he'd ever had in his life.

Percival couldn't hold back the smirk that broke out across his face as Newt's backed against the fireplace in his front room, jerking slightly as he stumbled over the lip, the mantle piece blocking his progression back.

"Mr G-Graves, I-ah, I mean Percival."

Percival cooed him, ascending the lip slowly so he could tower over the shy wizard, his eyes trained on those full pink lips which had been sending him mad for weeks.

"It's okay Newt," he soothed, his voice barely above a whisper as he reached out for the young man, running his calloused thumb along a defined cheekbone, "it's okay."

Newt all but whimpered, his eyes screwed shut as Percival leaned in closer, his frantic breaths hot against Percival's skin.

Percival allowed himself to marvel at the spectacle, captivated by the sight of the man squirming beneath him. It was delicious the way he flustered like a chaste teen, oblivious to the ways of romance. Newt was pure like that, innocent, like the finest bone china that Percival's mother kept in the Welsh dresser and refused to use lest it got damaged. Newt was in no way fragile, and yet, in every way he was delicate. Newt was unbreakable, strong as iron, yet needed to be handled with care.

"Percival I've never done this."

Percival grinned as Newt's bright eyes flashed to meet his for little more than a second before they looked away shyly again. His face seemed to take on an even deeper hue of red as he became increasingly embarrassed by Percival's conquest. His fair lashes fluttered as his gaze turned towards the floor, looking desperately from shoe to shoe as if he wanted the floor to open him up.

"I know," Percival came to stop barely a finger length from him, his chest nearly touching Newt's, "it's okay."

Newt's head was forced up, his chin tipped by Percival's finger on his jawline, urging their eyes to meet. At first, Newt jumped away from the touch, dropping the prized leather suitcase which he had been clutching furiously ever since he had arrived at the house into the floor causing a heavy thud to echo through the house. It was the only sound between them as Newt began to shake again, his eyes wide, focussed intently on Percival's collar pins, unable to cope with the proximity. His breath came in short, shaking spurts, his brow twitching as he clearly lost function.

He was completely ruined already; and Percival loved it.

The jaw beneath his finger was hard, barely any skin over the bone, sharp and thin like paper. Percival wondered if he could cut himself on it, drag his fingers over it leaving behind a line of berry red blood. It was a masochist fantasy, and it sent a shrill through Percival's chest, causing his heart to beat faster beneath his ribcage and his gut to flop with oncoming arousal.

"It's okay, Newt, it's okay."

Percival held himself from ravishing the poor man completely, despite his growing need to just have the man there and then, to have this desire put aside and to let it rest. He needed to be slow about this, needed to approach Newt with caution. Newt was inexperienced and unsure, lacking confidence in himself and his abilities. Percival couldn't let that knowledge get to his head, not the breathtaking knowledge that this was the first time Newt had ever been touched like this, held like this, even kissed like this.

Percival was going to take it all.

He leaned in slowly, ignoring the way Newt's eyes shut tightly like a child or the way he held his breath. If it was anyone else Percival would have been offended, but this was Newt and Newt was different.

Percival caught Newt's lips with his own before the man had chance to move, and it was everything that he had anticipated.

Newt's lips were strangely chapped, too dry from all the travelling he did, all the different climates he'd visited. While Newt's heart was ready to go anywhere in the world at the mere mention of a creature, his body took a little longer to adjust, plain to see from all the scars he had. Newt didn't take care of himself as much as he probably should, and the thought of it made Percival smile against him.

The Director kept the kiss light, unsure about whether Newt would take to it. He didn't want to pressure Newt into this, into anything he didn't want.

Yet, he had grown tired of waiting, his morality shamelessly highlighted by his past scrapes with death from the hand of the men he swore to fend off. Percival came to realise that too many times he been strung up on what ifs, and silly doubts. He decided that it wasn't worth worrying anymore, and so, took whatever life he had remaining by the horns.

After a moment, Percival pulled away, watching Newt as he blindly tried to follow his lips. The wizard had realised what breathing was again, and was definitely calmer that before. He opened his eyes, gazing at Percival like he'd just been thoroughly debauched.

Newt stammered without a single word, his eyes frantic as he tried to understand the situation. No doubt it was embarrassing to him, to be delivered such a sweet kiss only to have it stolen away like a baby from its mother. It was all too much for Newt, and yet, it wasn't enough.

Percival waited a beat, his face mere inches from Newt as he let the Magizoologist decide what it was that he exactly wanted. He gave the wizard a choice: to walk away and let that be the end of it, one chaste kiss, or to stay and give himself to Percival in every way he could.

Eventually the latter won.

"I'm not good at this." Newt mumbled, more to himself than to anyone else as he leaned in, his breath unsure yet steadier than before. His lips ghosted over Percival's, unexpectedly innocent and delightfully heartwarming.

Now Newt was giving Percival a choice: to take his time and treat Newt tenderly, or to snatch what was presented in front of him like a greedy child.

This time the former won.

"You're doing it so perfectly." Percival heard himself mutter, his voice barely above a whisper, sounding far off and detached from their current scene. It was like hearing himself through water, but Percival didn't give it a moments thought as he brought his lips to Newt, stealing another heavenly kiss.

It was longer this time, more controlled. Simple, slow movements over one another as they began to make sense of each other's shapes. They were like two pieces of a jigsaw connecting, made for each other in the most simplest of ways.

Newt moaned, a short, sweet sound that Percival's heart jolt inside his chest. Such an innocent sound replayed in his mind, over and over like a mantra until he convinced himself that it was nothing short of sinful.

Percival pressed harder now, eager to receive more from Newt, like Newt was acting this way deliberately, acting shyly and holding back from him as if to toy with him like a predator would with its prey.

Percival needed more of Newt, and yet more was never enough, he moved his lips against Newt's quicker and quicker, the friction of it making his insides turn. He relished every moan or whimper that came from the man as if the sound of Newt was a holy book and he a devoted sinner.

Newt's confidence grew, he began reaching out blindly for Percival, knotting his hands into the silk of Percival's waistcoat, clawing desperately for anything. His pleasure was no longer silent, he moaned openly as their kisses became feverish. Percival knew that he had won Newt without him even knowing it.

Keen as he was on kissing Newt, which quite frankly, he could have done all day long, Percival longed for something more, something to cherish. He wanted Newt in every way, and he was prepared to earn it.

Easing back, Percival worked his hands beneath Newt's coat, earning a wistful sigh from the young man who swayed absentmindedly, his eyes closed and his lips swollen already.

Percival drove the thick coat off of his shoulders with a smile, amused by the man who been completely undone by nothing more than a kiss. Eventually the thick blue coat fell to the floor, slumping lifelessly against the marble of Percival's fireplace.

If Newt noticed it was gone, he didn't mention it, wasn't fazed by it all. He peered at Percival through sleepy eyes, like a child found awake past it's bedtime. Percival chuckled to himself, wrapping his large, dry hands around Newt's long scarred fingers, coaxing him down off of the fireplace and through the living room.

He led Newt into the dark wood panelled hallway, tugging him towards the stairs as if Newt was a blind man. Yet, as his foot caught against the first steps, causing him to jitter slightly, Newt seemed to come back to himself, back to the situation at hand. His eyes were wide as he gazed up the stairs, following each step up, now fully aware of what Percival was intending. His face flushed, and his freckles stood out making him look even more adorable than before.

His eyes turned from the stairs to Percival, who stood above him watching him intently, the magic around him thrumming with hot arousal.

Newt's hand shook in his, uncertain of what to do next. He stared past Percival, transfixed by the doors to the rooms upstairs. "Percival, I've never, I'm no good, I don't know what to do."

Percival smirked, charmed by the bashfulness. "I'll look after you Newt, say the word and I'll stop."

There was a glimmer of hesitation in Newt's eyes which disappeared as Percival began to tug him back up the stairs, keen to show him exactly how he'd look after him.

\----

Through fierce kisses, Percival managed to wandlessly unbutton Newt's waistcoat without detection, stealing his attention by nibbling against his lower lip, earning himself a moan of his name. The room scaled down suddenly, the air hot and dense as clothing became frightfully claustrophobic.

Percival tried to steady his breaths which were continuously coming faster and shorter as he could feel himself respond to Newt, the desire within him building. It was scary how quickly Newt had this kind of an effect on him, but Percival was too far gone to consider it much more.

As he began to unbutton Newt's shirt, the kiss ended abruptly, causing Percival to still his hands and start back. Newt regarded him with impossibly wide eyes, glassy, almost black with his own arousal. He drank the sight of Percival in like a man starved of water, left dying in the most harshest desert.

Percival watched him curiously, keeping his eye contact for as long as possible. For the first time since the had met, he was the first to break away, shy under Newt's doe eyes that seemed to see through him as if he was made of glass. He felt bare and vulnerable, something a Graves should never feel.

Newt peered past Percival towards the bed, anxious about what was to come. Despite his chastity, Newt seemed fully aware of Percival's intentions, of his wants and his desires. Despite his own fear, Newt trusted Percival with everything that he was.

"N-Not my shirt," Newt stammered, his eyes dropping shamefully, his weight shifting from one foot to another restlessly, "I have, er, well, a lot of scars and they're not pretty and they're rather ugly and horrible."

Percival held the man in front of him with a tenderness he hadn't even known he could possess. His large hands held Newt's waist resting softly above his hips as a means of comfort. He didn't want to see Newt afraid and hurt, he only wanted Newt to feel as good as he did, to understand and share in his want, not at all to be anxious like this.

"You," Percival drew Newt's attention, causing the Magizoologist to look at him for a mere millisecond with a face filled with hope, "are so beautiful I can hardly put it into words."

Newt froze in his arms for a moment before a shiver ran through him. When he tipped his head up, he gazed at Percival with newfound love, the heat of his passions simmering beneath the surface, their fires hot and wild. Newt didn't need another moments thought.

With an uncharacteristic abandon which made Percival's brow raise, he threw his arms around Percival's neck, his fingers dancing along his collar. "Kiss me," Newt whispered as he dragged his finger playfully up and down the nape of Percival's neck, sending a spark of desire down his back, "please again kiss me!"

Percival couldn't resist this new Newt, this new man who demanded passion and who ordered his lover like Percival was merely born to give him pleasure. It made Percival feel like a teenager, eager to please his first lover. It took away the need for control in him, the doubt in his mind that Newt didn't like what he was doing. Now he knew that Newt only wanted more, he didn't need to hold back.

Percival kissed him wildly, faster, less precise than before. He knew that Newt was struggling to keep up, unpractised and clumsy, but he couldn't bring himself to stop. Newt melted away under him, soft and pliable, whimpering as Percival took the first opportunity to slip his tongue into the mans mouth.

Percival guided Newt who clung to him, insecure and blind to what was coming, confused by the slick tongue which explored his mouth, the hand around the back of his head, buried in his curls, coaxing him closer. Percival kissed him deeper, Newt's body pressed flush against his own, the heat him almost scolding.

Percival needed to feel Newt against him, needed to feel his skin before it drove him stark raving mad. With Newt's attention focussed on the way Percival kissed him, Percival dared to slowly pull Newt's shirt from where it was tucked into his trousers loosely. He worked his hand beneath the shirt, earning a gasp from Newt as he settled his hand against the bare skin of the small of Newt's back.

It was blistering, and Percival felt as if his hand was burning from holding Newt so close. It was overwhelming, to have the man so close, so real, so much so that his arousal now begged for attention, pressing harshly against his trousers.

Newt mewled, breaking away with short panting breaths as he rolled his hips into Percival, urgent and needy. The hands on Percival's neck moved to hold his face, long fingers brushing against his temples as their eyes met once more. Newt flushed again, something that took Percival by surprise knowing all that Newt had done for the first time that night so far. The thought of what may come ahead was overpowering to Newt, and his words babbled again, no longer confident, as shaking hands left his neck and began to try and undo the buttons to his waistcoat.

"Y-Your clothes, Percival."

The fingers fumbled as they tried to get purchase on the buttons, struggling to force them though their holes. With each passing moment, Newt seemed to grow angrier and angrier, frustrated by his struggles. His brows furrowed, his nostrils flaring as he hurried desperately, much to Percival's entertainment.

Percival offered wandless Magic to help him but Newt rejected it with a meek shake of his head. He was determined as he was stubborn at times, refusing help when he was most probably in need of it.

Eventually the jacket came off, and Percival's braces were yanked from his shoulders with a snap. Newt's movement became increasingly jumbled as nerves and excitement mixed in a rather bizarre cocktail of adrenaline. His previous insecurity giving way to need.

When Newt clicked off his beloved Scorpion collar pins, Percival helped by wandlessly floating them to his bedside table, not caring if Newt wanted to throw them aside in his desire-led frenzy. It was worth it to see the innocent, almost childlike, look of amusement on Newt's face as he followed the pins with his eyes like they were leading him to some magical place no doubt filled with fantastical creatures.

But the moment passed and soon Newt was back to undressing his lover, muttering apologises as he nearly ripped half of Percival's shirt buttons off. To Percival it didn't matter, what mattered was Newt's nimble fingers and the way the warmth that radiated from them sunk into his chest like he'd just had a bottle of firewhiskey. Percival dared not lean into it, but it was oh so tempting that he had to actively remember to straighten himself every time his shirt opened a little more.

Eventually the shirt fell to the floor, leaving Percival stood bare in his trousers, open and vulnerable. Newt's eyes roamed his chest unashamedly, noting each detail of the rather muscular, fine chest which was dowered in a mist of dark hair.

Newt seemed captivated by the prospect, fingers reaching out tentatively to ghost over a pronounced chest, down a smooth abdomen. Newt's fingers stopped as they reached the band of his trousers, too shy to touch the dark hair which disappeared beneath them. While his hand remained steady, Newt's eyes flickered downwards for a heartbeat, before coming back up to gaze into the distance, somewhere in the corner of the room. No doubt he had seen the full extent of Percival's arousal, which was now woefully uncomfortable.

Newt flushed to the tips of his ears and down his neck, and Percival could hardly resist the temptation. He was not embarrassed by his feelings, or by his body's reaction, and he would teach Newt to be likewise.

Percival closed in on Newt, his hands spread over Newt's ribs protectively as his lips soothed over the shell of Newt's ear, "You do this Newt," his breath hot against Newt, "only you, only ever you."

\----

It didn't take long for Percival to have Newt spread on his back, naked, shivering despite the heat of the room, moaning sinfully at every touch Percival gave him.

From here, between his open legs, Percival mapped out Newt's body, worshipping it like it was a gift, pure and holy. Scars littered his body, each with a story to tell, each a different shape or colour or texture, each earning a different sound when Percival brushed his lips against them, doting on them lovingly.

Newt hated his scars, trying his best to hide them, yet Percival found each and every one gorgeous, heartbreaking and powerful; all a testament to the man on which they grew. Newt didn't share in his fascination, and instead, laid with his hands shielding his eyes, covering his face as he flushed.

"They're ugly, i-it's embarrassing!"

Percival, refusing to hear such talk, leaned over Newt, pressing a kiss to his sternum, between his ribs which worryingly stuck out as Newt struggled to catch his breath, panting helplessly. He pressed feather-light kisses up Newt's chest, causing the man to worm and his breath to flutter.

"Newton," he moaned, his voice husky and dark as he caught one of the perched pink nipples between his lips, suckling and licking, bringing a choked sob from Newt as the legs around Percival's waist tightened, the toes curling, "oh Newton you so are deliciously perfect."

Newt arched into him, the prick of his arousal brushing against Percival's stomach, yet still he refused to move the hands from his eyes.

"'M sorry." He blurted quickly, unaware of what he was apologising for.

Percival grinned to himself at the sight of his lover being so sensitive to such meagre touches, he could hardly wait to see what else Newt would do later. Percival knew he was going to have to earn Newt's eye once more, and he was more than ready for the challenge.

He took the skin of Newt's collarbone into his mouth, biting down, sucking and licking more harshly than was probably necessary.

The hands that shadowed Newt's face didn't move, but it did earn him a squirm for his troubles, breathless whimpers coming from the man as Percival broke away, licking at the mark he'd left behind as an apology. It

was enough to say that Newt was now his; but not enough to get him what he wanted.

Pleased, yet unsatisfied, Percival spied Newt's erection, full and languid between them, demanding attention and angry at its denial. Newt would kill him, he knew, he was barely confident enough to take his shirt off let alone be touched as intimately at this. It was cruel, torturous even, and Percival knew immediately that he wanted Newt to experience it.

Percival kept an eye trained on his lover, watching him intently as his fingers wrapped around Newt's length, rolling over the head experimentally. Newt came to life under his touch, his breaths urgent and hurried as Percival stroked his length, his calloused hands moving, giving pressure where Newt moaned the most.

The hands that covered his sweet, porcelain face moved, allowing Percival to see his face for the first time since he'd stripped him. Newt's eyes were dark, swimming with arousal, half lidded lazily as his mouth hung open, his lips swollen. Newt watched Percival with wide eyes, watched his movements, biting his bottom lip.

Newt was both transfixed by the sight of Percival's hand upon him, working his length stronger with each passing second, drawing lewd moans from him, and scared, staring as if he'd never seen anything like it, like it was new to him, like he didn't even know it was possible.

Percival drew his thumb over slit, a choked whimper in his ear telling him that Newt obviously quite enjoyed being toyed with.

Percival grinned against his ear, watching Newt watch himself was blissful, and he tried to commit it to memory for those lonely nights when the pliable body of the Magizoologist would not be around.

"Do you touch yourself like this often, Newton?" He all but purred into the mans ear. Newt squirmed, trying to shift his weight away from the hand that was drawing such sensations from him. His breathing was laboured and his eyes glassy as if being touched was too much for him to bare, too overwhelming and numbing.

Newt shook his head, his sweat drenched curls sticking to his forehead as he unconsciously rocked his hips into Percival's hand, longing for friction despite his anxiety. Percival kissed his jawline gently, stroking Newt faster, somewhat determined to bring an orgasm from him, desperate to see the man fall to pieces.

Newt ceased to make any noise beneath him, his mouth hanging in a silent sob as his eyes rolled back. Percival knew he was near, knew that Newt could not hold himself back much longer. He was unaccustomed to this, inexperienced even with himself.

With a shrug of his shoulders, Percival decided to torture Newt one last time.

Newt scrambled to grab bed sheets as Percival took him in his mouth, his tongue slick as he sucked against the head. Newt stared at him with wild eyes, shocked and overtaken by pleasure as Percival swallowed him down, working the rest of his length with his hand. He met Newt's eye, calm despite the crudeness of the action.

Newt sobbed, literally. Tears ran down his face as his body shook, filled with new pleasure and intense passion. His freckled chest heaved as he tried to control what his body so desperately desired.

Percival wasn't about to let him go because of sympathy. He worked Newt harder, circling his tongue over the head, dragging over it sensitive veins, sucking hard enough to make his lips swell. Percival loved fellatio, whether he was performing it or receiving it, it didn't matter. With Newt, Percival loved it even more than usual.

A shiver ran through Newt's body as he suddenly curled in on himself, fingernails digging into Percival's scalp as he tried to drag the man off of him, tugging helplessly at slick black tendrils.

It was no use, Newt came with a high-pitched groan and Percival's face became spread with it.

A silent moment passed as Newt calmed down, his piercing blue eyes staring at Percival, at the white streaks that covered one side of his face, forcing him to shut one of his eyes. It took a minute before Newt came to his senses, babbling apology after apology, reaching for Percival's face so he could wipe it from him.

But Percival rose out of his reach, wanting Newt to understand the extent of his desire, just what he was prepared to do purely because he loved it and he loved Newt.

Smiling down at Newt, he swiped the drying streaks from his face before sticking the finger in his mouth, tasting and savouring as if it was the greatest treat in the world. Humming like a chef over his finest dish.

The horrified look on Newt's face made it worthwhile.

\----

Percival knew that Newt would be tight, his virgin hole not used to be abused so; yet he hadn't anticipated it to be like this, to be so blissfully hot that Percival felt a fire burn within himself.

It was breathtaking, having Newt spread before him, legs wide, inviting. Percival tried to memorise every detail, fearful that he'd forget just how amazing Newt felt.

As he pushed slowly in and out of Newt, his lover became more and more encapsulated. For a man who was too shy to undress him earlier, he had a strange and unforeseen obsession with watching himself getting fucked, and Percival felt flashes of arousal run through him every time Newt gasped.

It was boggling how the man could be so embarrassed by a kiss, yet could watch Percival's length enter him with fascinated eyes like he was watching a beast.

Percival made a mental note to investigate this newfound interest. He imagined all the things he could do with Newt if he liked this so much; letting Newt do it to himself, making use of various mirrors in the house, letting Newt do it him. He'd found a small piece of Newt that no one else had discovered and it made him possessive over the Magizoologist.

"H-Hurts."

A soft croak came from beneath him, the hiss of pain laced with the breathlessness of pleasure.

Newt leaned up on his elbows, watching Percival hold him apart like a doll, his length filling Newt, making him both complete and exposed.

With each crude snap of skin Newt sobbed, fresh tears coming from his eyes as he burned with the way Percival fucked into him, bruising his hips with his hands. While his pace had previously been softer, more accommodating to Newt's naïvety, Percival now used a meaner, frenzied count, the kind that made bedsprings creak and the wooden posts of the bed jitter.

Newt now sounded his pleasure without restraint. Where he had been nervous and silent he was now surprisingly loud. He moaned through tears, telling Percival that 'Yes!', he had to move 'Faster!', 'Deeper!', 'Anything!'. It awoke something with Percival and he found himself in a trance as fucked himself roughly into Newt's lithe body.

Newt cried through it all, once or twice dropping back against the bed limply as his previous anxieties came back. His insecurities over his body leading him to shrink back, but with some encouraging words he would soon be back to watching Percival fuck him.

"Newton," Percival managed to groan through thrusts, causing red, tear filled eyes to settle on him, "Fuck Morgan, you were made for this Newton."

Newt choked back a sob, unable to break eye contact with Percival despite his usual, everyday struggles.

Percival grimaced, feeling Newt tighten around him, "So, fucking tight Newton."

Newt covered his mouth with a scarred hand, his chest struggling as he sobbed and sniffed through each of Percival's deep thrusts, his entire body shaking with the force of it.

"Could make love to you all day, Newton," Percival babbled, we knew it was the hormones talking, the rush of testosterone in his blood. Yet, he also knew there was divine truth in it, that he would indeed do this with Newt all day and night if only he could, "my Newton, my love."

Newt moaned his name, pleading him, begging him, his voice thick and hoarse from his shouting. Percival held Newt still as his thighs shook, his second orgasm of the evening coming stronger, more intensely than the first. It was a wonder to see Newt break apart, to watch him close his eyes and his mouth open in a silent moan as his body let go. It was like watching a sacred, blessed being, and Percival thought Newt looked wondrous, almost angelic, throughout.

He could hardly believe he was the only one to ever see such a sight.

It didn't take long for his own to come, with Newt's body coming down from its high, now tighter and tenser than ever, the feeling of Newt being so hot and wet and tight become all too overwhelming and he came with a gruff groan, clenching Newt's soft thighs, bruising them.

Percival didn't want to come out of Newt, he wanted to stay there forever, tied to Newt, with him in the most animalistic way he could be. It was sadistic he supposed, to hurt Newt like this for his own passions. He had hoped Newt enjoyed it, but he couldn't be sure if the man was simply playing along so Percival wouldn't dislike him.

Pushing those thoughts aside, Percival rose from the bed, ignoring the ache in his thighs and his hips from activities his age most certainly didn't forgive him for, as he made his way to the small bathroom.

When he returned Newt was sat silently on the bed, his limbs limp and his eyes sleepy as he watched Percival approach with a warm cloth in his hand.

Percival sat down on the bed, showing Newt the cloth before snaking an arm beneath his thin frame so he could lift him from where he sat.

He knew he could simply clean Newt with spells, it was how he'd come to make Newt so slick, yet, there was something wonderfully mundane and simple about doing something by hand, not relying on magic for once and just feeling the moment. In the heat of it, magic had proved a lifesaver, in the aftermath, it seemed heartless.

Percival passed the cloth gently between Newt's cheeks, rubbing him, refusing to let him go to bed in such a state. Newt whined when he did it, high like a wounded dog, but he said nothing otherwise. His face was beet red, embarrassed again despite all they'd done.

When Percival pulled back, he regarded Newt for a moment, trying his best to decipher what was wrong. It didn't take long for Newt to cave under that intense stare, eventually his gaze met Percival's and the shyness returned.

"I'm sorry, so sorry, I'm not good at it, you've probably had so much better and I just..."

Percival sighed, his smile shallow and sympathetic as he ran a hand through Newt's drying curls, "Newt, it doesn't matter who I've been with before. None of them were you."

Newt still struggled to meet his eye, his breath coming shakily as post-coital 'waffle-talk' seemed to take precedence over Newt.

"I don't care Newt," Percival admitted, his hand stroking the beautifully freckled cheek, "you are so perfect I don't care about anyone else."

It was true, he didn't. He no longer thought of anyone else, pictured himself with anyone else, imagined a future with anyone else. It was all Newt, everything in his life was now Newt.

He hoped a sweet, kind kiss would be enough to convince the stunning Magizoologist.

Luckily, it was.

**Author's Note:**

> I've never posted anything on here under this name and this is the first thing lmao what? 
> 
> Honestly man what in earth 
> 
> If anyone figured this out then please let me know because I don't have a clue 
> 
> Feel free to criticise my life choices, don't worry, I hate them too!! Xx


End file.
